The Uniform
by reconnoiterer
Summary: Something old and something blue. Leon/Claire.


"You weren't lying – your mom really does keep everything," Claire said from her seat on the floor in front of a stack of boxes, some still closed, some spewing their contents out onto the floor around them.

"I told you, she's the Queen Packrat," was Leon's reply as he sat back down beside her, biting down into a soft, homemade, chocolate chip cookie. When his mother had heard that her son had finally given up the bachelor life, gotten a good government job, and moved into a house with a very sweet girl she had been so excited she'd immediately rushed out and sent down boxes and boxes of what she referred to as 'The Essentials'. 'The Essentials' seemed to cover everything from washcloths and old yearbooks, to casserole dishes and extension cords – homemade cookies included. "I think we should just throw most of this stuff out. It's a pretty bad sign when even a packrat wants it out of the house."

"Awe c'mon Leon, I know you were just dying without your…" she searched through the box beside her for a moment, "most favourite Christmas ornaments!" Dangling from between her finger tips was a small ceramic Christmas ornament depicting two frolicking kittens, festively dressed, and engaged in a playful snowball fight. The words "Merry Christmas 1985" were scrolled in gold on the base. Leon groaned and rolled his eyes.

"Just have another cookie and I'll dispose of it all after you slip into a diabetic coma."

"What have we here?" Claire grasped a bright bit of blue fabric from the bottom of a box and tugged, pulling out a slightly crumpled, odd-smelling shirt, a familiar Raccoon City Police Department emblem embroidered on the sleeve. "Old school!" she crowed, holding the shirt up in front of her.

"That's it, this stuff is getting junked _right now_," he lunged for the shirt but she yanked it out of the reach of his fingers at the last second.

"Don't you at least want to see if it still fits?" she held it on the end of one finger, her expression mischievous and her tone suggestive.

"No," he answered bluntly.

"But you looked so good in it,"

"No, I didn't. I looked like a scrawny little twerp, because I was a scrawny little twerp."

"It matches your eyes so nicely though,"

"Claire,"

"Leon." He sighed, sensing that this was not going to end well, or quickly. He had burned his original R.P.D. uniform of course - they had had to burn everything they'd worn that night - but when they had hired him on they had given him a spare uniform 'just in case'. It was this other uniform that his mother, bleary eyed and heartsick, thinking her son had perished along with all the others in either the outbreak or subsequent bombing, had dutifully kept all these years.

"It won't even fit me properly anymore,"

"Hot Cops style! Even better."

"You're sick, you know that?"

"Indulge me. I indulge your love of short-shorts,"

"_You_ love the short-shorts,"

"I've never heard you complain."

"These clothes smell like basement," he said, fishing out the rest of the uniform.

"You've smelled worse, believe me. Now," she said, pushing him towards the bedroom, "you've got two minutes and when I come in there had better be a very buff, very disgruntled body giving that poor uniform some new life," Claire said, giving him a final shove, the door doing very little to muffle his angry muttering.

When she stepped back into the room Leon was staring himself down in the mirror placed haphazardly on top of the dresser. The uniform suited him – she had always thought so – but with his new physique, compliments of the U.S. Government, he appeared a lot more authoritative in it. The tight fit of the shirt was pulled taught against the muscles of his chest and shoulders, the short sleeves baring a tanned and well toned expanse of bicep and forearm. The pants sat well on his hips, and from the angle she was standing Claire could appreciate the way they hugged against his well defined backside. At the sound of the door opening Leon turned around to face her, crossing his arms over his chest in a way that pulled the material even tighter and made him look very much the part of the disgruntled police officer.

"Happy now?"

"Mmm, very," she stepped towards him, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her face to his chest. "Ugh, you really do smell like basement."

"Tell me about it," he draped his arms loosely around her, resting his cheek on her head. Claire could feel the tension in his stance and the corded muscles beneath her fingers.

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong, or are you just going to be all broody and tortured for the rest of the day?"

"Hey, I've been told tortured is a good look for me," he chuckled, and Claire felt the low rumble under her ear. "It's just that," he paused, letting a breath out sharply through his nose "I only got to wear it once you know? I worked so hard my whole life to get to that point, and now all I can think about is that one night. It's stupid, I know, but it just…"

"Brings back too many memories?"

"Something like that." Claire stepped back, moving her hands up his chest to wrap around his neck.

"Then maybe it's time to make some new ones," she said, pressing her lips against his. His reaction was swift and powerful, his arms coming around her as he crushed his lips back against hers. Her lips were warm and soft and she tasted faintly of strawberry lipgloss and the chocolate chip cookies she'd just been enjoying. Claire tugged his lip lightly between her teeth, rising up on her tiptoes to slide her mouth against his more fully, his face cupped in her hands.

Leon found himself being herded back towards the bed until his knees hit the edge of the mattress. Grasping her hips firmly in his powerful hands he pulled her down on top of him, her thighs straddling his waist, and a hard bulge rubbing against the cleft of her butt. Her legs slid along his as she straightened out, kissing her way away from his mouth, across his jaw, and down his neck to the collar of his shirt where her fingers loosened the first button.

"I thought you wanted it on," Leon's voice was hoarse from rapid breathing.

"I do. I thought you wanted it off," she said before tracing her tongue along his collarbone to the indentation at the base of his throat, causing him to groan.

"I do," he growled, burrowing his fingers in her hair to tear out the elastic holding it up. The soft, silky sheet of it spilled down, covering her face and the increasing strip of his chest she was exposing as she worked her fingers and mouth down his body. She tugged the now separate sides of his shirt out of the waistband of his trousers and then sat back up on top of him, grinding her crotch into the hard press of his.

Arching her back so her breasts pressed toward him, Claire tugged off her t-shirt, stretching her body in a way that accented the low-rise of her dark denim jeans, her hair tumbling messily around her face and shoulders. Leon's eyes were blazing darkly as she crawled up his chest towards him, stroking the hair back off his forehead and planting light kisses across his face.

"There, don't you feel better already?" she asked as she continued to move against him, hands coming up to grab her ass, pushing her harder into him.

"Almost," he murmured, kissing her wetly, sliding his tongue against hers. She smirked as she pulled away teasingly, but as she sat back up he lifted himself up to follow, his abdominals flexing, reaching for the clasp of her bra on her back. Claire pushed him back down with a hand on his chest,

"Down boy, you'll get your turn," she said coyly, undoing the clasp herself and tossing the garment onto the floor. Most of the time she found Leon's control issues amusing; they had served him well in the past and he had come to rely on them, and himself, to the point where he felt uncomfortable if he couldn't personally supervise every little detail. The results usually spoke for themselves – he was the man in charge of the personal security of the President of the United States and his family – but Claire had felt for some time that he needed to learn that cutting loose every once in a while wasn't such a bad thing.

Leaning forward, she dangled her creamy breasts, almost glowing in the fading evening light, above him, letting him lap and pull at the rosy nipples. Leon pulled at one lightly with his teeth, rolling the other between his callused fingertip and thumb, making her whimper softly above him. Then, working one with his mouth, he worked his hands down her body, furiously unfastening her jeans and working them as low as they would go over her spread thighs. Resting her weight on her forearms, she kicked her jeans the rest of the way off and he slid his hands over her smooth, newly exposed skin. Leon nuzzled his face back up to hers, kissing her as his fingers delved around the curve of her ass, stroking the wet patch on her panties lightly. She smiled and moaned, letting him rub her softly, his fingers probing gently and spreading her wetness around.

"C'mon," he pleaded, tracing a fingertip briefly around her clit, loving the way it made her move her hips into his hand.

"Fine, fine," she pretended to roll her eyes, wriggling out of her panties and straddling him again, tugging his belt and fly undone just enough, her fingers deft and cool against his heated flesh. As he held himself steady she lowered herself onto him a little bit at a time, almost drawing herself off of his hardness before lowering herself a little more. She gave a little gasp as he filled her entirely, pressing deeply inside of her.

She gave herself a moment to let her body adjust to his size before starting to move, at first leaning back to brace herself against his legs as she moved her hips, his cock sliding in and out with the motion. Leon loved the way she looked on top of him, her breasts just within reach, her head thrown back and hair spilling down her back, a couple of strands still draped forward over her shoulder, her neck long and moving with every breath and little moan of pleasure she made. He roved his hands over her body, gripping her hips, then cupping a breast, pulling the nipple just sharply enough to get her to open her eyes again.

As her blood began to pound faster through her veins Claire shifted her position, leaning forward slightly, using her thighs to thrust her body up and down, making her breasts bounce slightly with the motion, and causing him to groan in appreciation. Leon, feeling the blood rushing in his own system, used one thumb to slowly circle her clit, using her moans as a gauge as to how much pressure to use. She rode him harder and faster, both of them breathing shallowly, until he hit the plateau first, gripping her hips and thrusting into her hard, nudging her in just the right spot to set off her own orgasm.

It took a moment for her body to finally relax, letting her collapse bonelessly onto his chest, the buttons of the uniform shirt pressing into her cheek. Leon rolled them both over, cradling her head on his shoulder and pulling one of her legs over his hips the fabric of the trousers he still wore slightly coarse against her thigh. She tugged his chin down, feeling the content curve of his lips against hers as she kissed him.

"So, does this mean we can keep it?" He snickered, slapping her butt playfully,

"Only if you promise to wear the short-shorts next time."


End file.
